The Most Audacious of Enterprises
by HelenVanPattersonPatton
Summary: "Kate smiles at him, a trembling, fearful thing just for him. It fills him up. She may as well have said yes. Because she's going to work on it. For him. He's soooo going to marry Kate Beckett." - - - Set sometime in late 2013 and beyond. No spoilers. **Now Complete**
1. Chapter 1

The bedroom is in near complete darkness. Only the waning moonlight, even more wan through late summer rain clouds, and the shine of the tablet resting on Kate's knees, cast illumination. She doesn't acknowledge him when he stands in the doorway. He raps his knuckles softly against the door frame to get her attention, and she tilts her gaze up with an unreadable expression on her face.

"I'm sorry I yelled," he says.

"I'm not mad."

Not really an acceptation of his apology, is it? She looks at him a moment longer as he tries to come up with something to say to smooth this over. He has nothing for it, and she goes back to reading.

Castle stands in the doorway another moment debating leaving her alone. It would be easy to go pour himself a drink and take his own refuge. He _can't_ though, he just can't. It kills him to have her genuinely, quietly mad at him. Even if she says she's not.

It started with her teasing him - relentlessly teasing him - about how picky he is about the care of his things. It was harmless and not entirely sweet spirited. He smiled and laughed with it as Kate and Alexis swapped stories over dinner regarding his coaster fanaticism. (_He feels that if either of them had ever had to pay have a rare, early 20th-century art deco credenza refinished, then maybe they would care a little more about water rings._) Once they were alone it escalated from there. She continued to slyly pick at him regarding all manner of household ills, and he ceased being able to take it with good nature.

They fought. Of course it was never about coasters or not leaving shoes in the middle of the living room floor. It was about Castle being a childish ass all day at the precinct (he is guilty as charged) and Kate's surprisingly passive-aggressive way of dealing with things.

And it was about Castle's great displeasure, and yes, anger, over Kate's refusal even to discuss moving into the loft.

He's a smart man. Yelling at your girlfriend because you want her to move in with you? This is not the way a smart man reacts.

Castle walks over to the edge of the bed and sits by her feet, reaches a hand out and spans it around her ankle in hopes of gentle armistice. Kate takes in a shaky breath and releases it without looking up at him.

"I'm sorry too," she says, so low he can barely hear. She looks up and he's surprised to see the shine of tears hiding in her eyes. "We're no good at this, Castle." It sounds like defeat for more than just this fight, and that scares him.

He jiggles her ankle and sneaks a finger under the edge of her sock. "We're better than you think we are." Kate smiles the tiniest of smiles at him, nearly infinitesimal, but there.

"Can we not do this right now?" her voice is steady and low, her eyes like crescent moons refracting the light.

There is a point with Beckett when pushing her is warranted, necessary even. Castle studies the slope of her back, the vaguely needy look in her eyes, and is proud to know that this is not that moment.

"Sure." He kisses the top of her knee and shuts the door behind him when he leaves.

* * *

When she finally comes out to find him, he's sitting on the sofa in the living room reading the publisher's proof of Karin Slaughter's most recent book, and scribbling in the margins to refer to later when he has to write his blurb. He can feel her eyes on him, but he doesn't acknowledge her, lets her take her time approaching him.

Kate perches on the edge of the glass-topped coffee table and picks up his wineglass for a sip, the scent of her eucalyptus shampoo filling the air. Her hair is wet and twisted over her shoulder, her T-shirt darkening where it's soaked through the fabric.

Castle takes her in, observes how her scrubbed-clean skin absorbs the light like fine porcelain and how her eyes and brow by contrast are so dark they look drawn there in ink. He loves getting to be privy to this Kate; the Kate that's all shadows and light, hard angles and wet hair.

"I'm scared," she says. Of course it's Beckett, so it's with prosaic confidence she says it, no hint of weakness, like stating her date of birth or badge number. She continues, "I'm scared that if we change things too much that it will stop working. That if we live together it will be too much and throw us off balance. I don't want to resent your presence or get sick of you."

"Sick of me? Never. I'm delightf-" She stifles him with a look that says think again hotshot. "Okay. Right." He leans forward and snags his wineglass from her fingers, her seriousness bleeding into him. "It is a lot of togetherness time, working and living together. But how is that different than it is now? You do already spend all your time here, Kate. It's been three months since you spent the night there. It's not that big a step."

She shakes her head at him, eyes wide with incredulity. "It is that big a step, Castle. How can you think it's not? Do you - okay, think of it this way, you've been married twice -"

"Whoa," he sits up slightly straighter at the mention of ex wives, and swings the foot resting on the leather down to the floor. "I don't know where this is headed, but I'm pretty sure I'm not going to like it."

"No, no. Just hear me out. You've been married twice. And you had a kid in the house for eighteen years. And your mother here for God knows how many. The last time I lived with someone was in college. Do you realize that I have never lived with a man? Never."

Never?

"Closest I ever came was with Will. And that wasn't all that close," she murmurs.

"Seriously? Never?" It thrills him in a horrible, Neanderthal-like way that he gets to be the first. The only. He hooks the back of his ankle around her's and tugs, unable to hold back his smile. Her foot skitters across the rug, then swings gently along with his. "You are a really good roommate, you know."

She smiles at that, a little proud of herself.

"All right, so it's new territory for you. What I don't understand, Kate, is that you're already here. You want to be here. It's silly to waste your money on an apartment you only use as storage."

"I know. It's just - it's a safety net. It is silly. And it is a waste of money. But it makes me feel safe," she says, her hand press flat against her chest. "Right now it keeps me from feeling too much like - " Kate trails off, her words getting smaller, but the meaning she doesn't share growing large in her eyes.

"Too much like what, Kate?"

She stands and walks over to the kitchen counter to pick up the nearly empty wine bottle, walks back and pours the rest of it in the glass he still holds, then sets the bottle on the table. He watches her pull the stem from his grasp, their fingers brushing, and take a long drink. Kate takes a deep breath and says it, "Too much like this is the last place I will ever live."

Forever.

He swallows hard and tries to keep the excitement pounding in his heart off his face. "Nah, we could always find another place if you don't like the loft. Maybe someplace closer to the precinct, or -"

She sighs at him and lets her hair off her shoulder to fall damply down her back. "I'm being serious."

"I know." And he does, his attempt at levity a failure. "You're - " it's his turn to sigh - "you're not wrong, Kate. I've been thinking about this from the wrong angle," he mutters, scrubbing a hand along his chin. "More like a small step, making things official really. But you're right."

This isn't how he thought this would go down, not the initial talk anyway, but there you have it. Things happen for a reason. He says, "This is huge. This is forever. And asking you to move in with me when you already live here is ridiculous."

"Kind of."

"We should get married."

Kate laughs, bright and throaty, full of joy and enough breathlessness to make her chest heave. Kate laughs and Castle does not.

"Wha-" her hand flies up to her mouth, laughter subsiding, her face falling. "You're - are you being serious right now?"

"Yes, I'm being serious."

"Castle." She shakes her head, her eyes flashing a warning at him he should probably heed. It may be pushing too far, but they both need to address the elephant that's been sleeping in their bed. It's time.

"Come on, Kate. Like you haven't thought about it?" Her eyes flutter from his in what looks like guilt and she gulps at the sediment of the wine.

"Okay, so you've thought about it. Hey," he says, scoots forward on the sofa to get at her, pulls the empty glass out of her hands and tugs her down on the couch so that they're eye level, their knees touching. "This isn't me proposing, okay? You don't have to get weird. I'm just saying that it's something that I want. Someday. And I hope it's something you want too."

Kate blinks at him.

"Say something so I know you're hearing me," he laughs and it feels good, like a knot of dread bubbling up out of his chest.

"I've thought about it before," she says slowly. "In a positive way."

"All right." He grins at her, can't help but. "So before we make you moving in here official, we should discuss marriage."

"Castle!" Her mouth is agape, as if shocked by his free wielding of the M word. It's the same expression he expects she'd have if he told her he just robbed Fort Knox.

"What? I'm being serious here, Beckett. Close your mouth." He can't help but smirk at the incredulity on her face.

"You had to have known I've thought about it, Kate. At least once you've caught me looking at rings on my computer."

"No, no I haven't." She's still breathless and slack-jawed, and it's adorable. He so rarely catches her off guard, and he is enjoying every moment of it. And the knowledge that Beckett's thought about the prospect of marrying him in a positive way; he's enjoying that too.

"You have. Tuesday as a matter of fact. I've been keeping a check on - " whoops. He doesn't want to give too much away - "Anyway, Tuesday. You surprised me and I nearly dropped my laptop. Remember?"

"That's what you were doing?" There's a crease in her brow that exhibits her frustration with herself, so unhappy she missed something.

"Yeah. Wait - what did you think I was doing?"

"I figured you were looking at porn."

"Kate!" It is his turn to be incredulous.

"What?" She is holding back the edges of a smile. She can't keep it out of her eyes though, can never keep it from there.

Castle pulls her quickly toward him, so that her shoulder jams into his chest and they both let out a breathy oomph. Her hair is cold against his chin. "You know I only ever use Ryan's computer to look at porn."

"Oh, that's right. My mistake. Something more embarrassing then. Like that website you keep tabs on about Kraken sightings." He can hear the smile he cannot see. Kate slides down just enough to rest her back against him and draw her feet up on the sofa.

They stay reclined together for a while. And he swears he can hear every cog clicking along in her brain, all the terror at the prospect, all the questions he knows she wants to ask, and, hopefully, all the happiness vibrating just beneath the disbelief.

"When?" she finally asks.

"Hmm," how much to tell her? "Soonish."

She pushes up enough to lean forward and get a look at his face. "How soon is 'Soonish'?"

Her brow is knitted so cutely he can't help but lean forward and kiss it. Kate scowls at him lovingly. "Not so soon you have to freak out about it. Not so terribly far off that you maybe should start working on not being terrified when you hear the M word."

"I can do that," she says slowly. "Well, I can start working on it, anyway. I'll work on it, Castle."

Kate smiles at him, a trembling, fearful thing just for him. It fills him up. She may as well have said yes. Because she's going to work on it. For him. He's _soooo_ going to marry Kate Beckett.

"It's not going to be too big, is it?" she asks.

"The proposal or the wedding?"

"Ugh," Kate buries her head in his shoulder with a grunt, but answers him. "The former."

"Ah, well, that's for you to find out. Wait and see." Castle brushes the wild spray of hair off her cheek. "And you get to completely dictate the latter."

"Yeah?" She's breathless. Kate, in his arms, imagining their wedding. Egad, it makes him want to tell her everything he's been imagining, everything that's already in motion. The jeweler on 6th Avenue he's had scouring estate sales, auctions, and boutique firms for the exact ring he thinks is right for her. One with a rich history, remarkable and one of a kind, but not so flashy she'll feel odd about wearing it everyday. An asscher cut diamond, he would like. Something from the turn of the 19th century. But the story is the most important part. He wants to give her a beautiful history to go with their brilliant future.

"Yes, Kate. Anything - everything you want."

"Hmm." She hums contentment into his neck and it tickles, her breath painting his skin as she fiddles with the edge of his T-shirt. He so wishes he could see what she's imagining in her mind's eye. He twists and unwinds his fingers from the still-damp rope of her hair.

"What do you think about honeymooning in Norway?" he asks.

"We are not going on a mythical sea-beast hunt on our honeymoon." Kate narrows her eyes and pushes her index finger hard against his chest.

"Yes, dear."

Her glare sharpens at that and her finger grinds harder into his sternum. He tightens his arm around her shoulder and she relents, her hand flexing then resting lightly on his chest, fingers absently stroking nonsense patterns.

"I'll work on other things too, Castle. Not just the - ya know - M word thing." Kate pulls her arm out from behind his waist and inches away so she can look him more squarely in the eye and picks up the thread of the dropped conversation.

He shakes his head, not understanding.

"I'll work on not getting mad at you for one thing when it's really something else I'm mad about. Be more fair."

Ah, that's nice. He likes that. That's a good thing to work on. He could probably work on that too. "Yeah, me too. I can do better at that too."

"And I'll do better about not leaving my shoes out." She appraises him sheepishly, like she's unsure she should concede any more, however she goes on. "I've - um, tripped on them too."

"I knew that's where that bruise on your shin came from! You hit the coffee table too, didn't you?"

Kate rolls her eyes at him. "Okay, calm down, killer. I said I'd try."

"That's all I'm saying."

"And..." she draws out expectantly.

"Oh! And.. I'll stop being an ass at work when you tell me to stop being an ass." He means it. He needs to do better about treating Kate more like Detective Beckett when they're at the precinct, about stopping when she tells him to stop.

"Thank you." She says it like she's exasperated, but her eyes betray her. They are twin beacons shinning at him so full of happiness. And love. She looks so very in love.

He catches a surprised gasp from her lips when he cants forward and kisses her, breathless and quick.

Kate grins up at him through dark, heavy lashes. "What was that for?"

"Hmm, can't a guy kiss his roommate?"

"Not officially roomy yet, but - yeah." She waggles her eyebrows at him, leering, just like he does to her, and that stupidly pleases him. "Anything else you want to share?"

"I can think of a few things."

Kate smiles inscrutably and dips down to plant a row of kisses along the underside of his jaw. When he opens his eyes she's going, moving away from him and vanishing down the dark hall toward their bedroom.

Castle switches off the end table light and leaves the wineglass to wash tomorrow.

He doesn't make a sound when he impales the edge of his foot on the razor-sharp heel of her boot lying near the end of the dresser. Instead he keeps his mouth shut and takes his almost fiancé to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

The last photo flutters to the bottom of the box, and she places the lid on it, sealing all of it in, writing in sharpie on the ends for filing. This case was shockingly easy, so much that Kate can't quite resolve it with herself. The crime was so brutal, the confession so quick - murder, investigation, and confession, all in the span of a day. It seems too horrifically easy.

Kate caps her pen and swaps it for the dry eraser. She catches Castle out of the corner of her eye, sitting quietly on the other side of her desk, frowning at his phone.

A few wide swipes at the whiteboard and she's done, the workspace as ready as it can be for the next one. It will take her a little longer.

"You ready to go?" she asks. It must startle him, Castle jumps.

"Uh, yeah. We still going to the thing for LT? 'Cause I'm sure he'll understand if you don't feel like it after today. There might be a better time..." he trails off.

"No, it's fine, Castle. It was nice of you to let him use the Old Haunt for his birthday party. We should go."

"But if you don't feel like it-"

"It'll be good. Let's go have a drink, see our friends." He studies her as if trying to gauge if she honestly wants to be out tonight or if she's just doing it for him. Finally he smiles.

"Yeah, let's go. It will be good," he says. He helps her with her coat, then goes back to the distraction of his phone. She'll have to work on that later, pull out of him what little thing is bothering him, making him distant, see if it's something from the case or some other worry. She'll coax him into talking about it. It will make him feel better; she always feels better when he does the same for her.

Kate loops her elbow around his and tugs, propelling them toward the elevator.

Finally he takes his eyes off the phone when she gropes him in the cab.

* * *

. . .

The bar is nearly full. People from work, other officers, the boys, Lanie; Kate even thinks she spies Gates sipping a drink at the other end of the bar. There are several people she's never seen before, some of LT's friends and family she thinks. They stayed late so she could take the board down, and it looks like they are the last to arrive.

She hangs her coat up as Castle bustles to get them drinks. LT's shooting pool and wearing a preposterous birthday hat, looking relaxed and almost like a different man in his street clothes, smiling as he sinks the nine ball. It all starts to crack the ice settled in her chest and warm the frost in her fingers, the hum of conversations and peels of laughter like a tonic.

Kate wanders over to the bar and is smiling when Castle hands her her beer - smart man, he remembered that she liked that Sweet Water IPA they just got on tap - and she leans her elbows against the weathered wood of the bar at her back. She gulps thirstily and relishes the bright hops that bite at her taste buds.

"Good?" Castle stage whispers in her ear to be heard over the noise, his nose buried in the curl of her hair, and she shivers slightly, the beer frosty down her throat and Castle's nearness a surprise.

"Yes, good. This is just what I needed." She means it. The day sloughs off her with the soft vibrations of the music, the perfect thing for her. Somehow she feels Castle wanted her to need this.

He smiles at her, his eyes glowing in the golden half-light. Kate flicks her fingers at the button-hole on the lapel of his suit jacket, leans into him, and presses her lips to his smile.

They get to do this now. There are no worries, no hiding. Everyone knows. Well, everyone had already known when Kate got around to being brave enough to spill, but now everyone officially knows. It just came to a point where, even if they weren't able to skirt the rules and Castle couldn't come to work, that it didn't matter. It would hurt and be hard and make her job so much less _easy_, but Castle the boyfriend, the roommate, the _almost fiancé_ as he likes to refer to himself, wasn't going anywhere, and Kate couldn't contain it anymore. And it's fine. It creates an even wider grey area of what is and isn't against policy, but it's fine. They have paperwork covering their asses and a surprisingly non-judgmental captain. So in the midst of their happy co-workers she gets to kiss him. And nobody even notices.

He hums into her kiss, his palm warm at the small of her back. She doesn't want to open her eyes when she pulls away, not yet. He runs his lips along her cheekbone, skims the hair by her temple.

"Love you, Kate."

Yeah, she knows he does. "You too, Castle. Love you too."

He beams at her, and she can feel it, all the sickeningly sweet love radiating off them both. Kate ducks her head, feels the heat in her cheeks from the awareness of it all, so glad no one is paying them attention.

"I -" Castle clears his throat, "I'm going to go make sure the man of the hour's got everything he needs before I embarrass mysel- " he growls when Kate sneaks her hand along the fabric at his ribs under his blazer. "Yeah. Exactly that." He kisses her cheek even as he's turning. "Be back."

She watches him go, admiring the view, a smile on her face she can't tamp down. She's happy. Never thought that would have happened so soon after the day they've had, yet here she is.

Kate absentmindedly watches the people milling around her, hears pieces of conversations, the ends of jokes, and finishes her beer. Lanie appears at her side when Kate turns around to have the bartender pull her another IPA.

"You sure are smiling a lot tonight," Lanie says.

"It would seem that I have a lot to smile about." As she says it she grins all broad and toothy at her friend, unable to contain it.

"Ugh, you disgust me. I liked it better when you and writer boy had to hide your feelings in public."

"No you didn't. Because you're a sap. Just like me."

"Yeah, I am," Lanie sighs. "Don't remind me. And it's not like you two were doing that great a job hiding it anyway."

Kate drops her jaw just for the drama and takes the beer the bartender hands her. No. They weren't doing a great job of hiding it at all.

"Are you really as happy as you look?" Lanie asks.

"No. I'm not."

Lanie raises a conspiratorial eyebrow her way.

"I'm happier. I can't show it all, can I, Lanie? I'd lose all respect."

Her friend scowls at her. "You have it bad. It really is disgusting, you know that? I know more relationships that have had a beginning, middle, and an ugly end, in the amount of time you two are still in your honeymoon phase. That is just unfriendly flaunting that around the have-nots."

"Uh-uh, nothing doing. It took us years to get to this point. We have earned our elongated honeymoon period."

"You know you talk like him now, too?"

"Do I?" Kate scrunches her nose. She suspects she would sound like him now.

"Kate," Lanie take the hand not holding the beer and turns to her, the serious expression making Kate a little nervous. "You're one of the lucky ones to have found your - shit I sound ridiculous, you can't ever tell anyone I said this - your soul mate. And I am truly happy for you. Enjoy it."

A lump forms thick in Kate's throat at her friend's words, so completely out of the blue, and she struggles to think of a reply that could convey what it means to her, almost any attempt seeming paltry.

"Thank you, Lanie." She swallows, clearing some of the sudden emotion from her voice. "For everything."

"You are welcome." Lanie dabs at the corner of her mascara theatrically. "Okay, I'm a leave you here before you make me look like some crazy woman. You enjoy your night, Kate Beckett."

* * *

Jenny arrives late. Kate's surprised to see her there at all, school night and everything. She makes her way to the table where Kate is sitting, eating some of the finger foods and talking with LT's brother.

"Kate." Jenny leans down with a hand at her shoulder and an air kiss. "I hope I'm not too late."

"No, of course not, party's still going strong," she replies. "Lots of food still and the bar is open."

"Oh good. Happen to know where my better half is?" Jenny pulls at the fingers of her red leather gloves then shoves them in the pocket of her coat.

"Um," Kate scans the crowd; it has been a while since she saw Ryan.

"Ah, I see him. Bye," Jenny says.

Kate spots Ryan at the entrance to the basement office door, Castle and Esposito just coming up the steps behind him. Ryan sees them looking and turns glittering blue puppy-dog eyes toward them, his gaze lingering a moment on Kate as Jenny sashays towards the men. Judging by the way Ryan is bright-eyed, whatever they were up to in the basement involved getting into Castle's private stash.

Yes, Castle and Espo share the moony expression. It must have been the good stuff. She catches Castle checking his phone - again - and then his eyes find hers. His face breaks, lighting up, and he motions for her to come join him.

He's standing just beyond that little alcove by the basement door, a frosted glass sconce on the wall above him making Castle glow with a halo of yellow light.

"Hey," she says.

In response he pushes a kiss, fast and hard to her lips, his teeth nipping, and then is gone again.

She'd ask what it was for, only she knows. She wants him too.

"You havin' a good time?" he asks.

"Yeah. It's a good party, Castle. I needed this."

"Good. That's good, Kate. I am really glad to hear you say that."

His hand is twitching on her hip and his eyes are glassy, his breath coming in sharp puffs. So the very good stuff, then. Maybe she should grab him a plate of food, help soak up some of that sixty year old reserve. Kate scans the few tables that have been set up as serving areas.

"Kate."

There's a man standing by the front door that looks like - is that her father? What on earth is he doing here?

"Kate."

And Martha.

Martha is definitely standing at the end of the bar.

With Alexis.

Oh.

"Kate, look at me." She raises her eyes to find his, terrifyingly blue and so full of promises. "I'm about to propose to you. I need you to not panic when I get down on one knee. Okay?"

What? Kate shakes her head, hearing the words but failing to adequately understand them. He's going to what?

"Did you hear me?"

She did. She heard him. Propose? He's going to- "Yeah - yes," she nods.

Castle nods back, his hand no longer fidgeting at her hip.

Kate sees it now. The eyes on her, watching, expectant. Her father's eyes, so much love in them, projected across the room. Alexis and Martha, tremulous and holding hands. They all know.

This is happening.

Castle gives a sign to Espo, and he pulls a tiny remote out of his pocket. With the push of a button the music changes, the smooth party mix stopping abruptly. Those not already looking at Castle and Kate do now. Espo pushes another button and at a still low decibel, the fast, funky beat of a new song starts: Clarence Carter's 'You Talk Too Much'.

Kate laughs and she can see Castle visibly relax. He looks at her with a question in his eyes, and she nods again, smiling, giving him the reassurance she can't quit get her fingers around.

"Are you ready?" he whispers.

"Yes." The word tumbles freely from her mouth. She is. She's ready.

Save for the quietly bouncing beat of the music - of the song that is meaningful only to them - you can hear a pin drop. Everyone is holding their breath, waiting.

Castle kneels down.

He _kneels_ in front of her, and Kate's vision tunnels, eyes only able to see him. He watches her for a moment, his eyes shimmering. She can almost read her own expression in his eyes, bright, shining, and surprised.

"Kate - " he speaks low, the word rumbling, clears his throat and tries again, louder, so everyone can hear.

"Kate. You have been so many things in the years I've known you. A warrior. A muse. A friend. An adversary." There's a ripple of laughter at that, and Kate can feel it race down her spine, her palms starting to sweat.

"And a partner." She doesn't realize the tear racing down her cheek until it's too late to stop it.

"It stuns me every day, to not only get to know you, a woman so strong, so courageous and compassionate, a woman more beautiful than my wildest dreams, but at my good fortune to get to share my life with you."

"No, I'm lucky. I'm the lucky one, Castle," she whispers in a rush to him, unable to make her voice any louder. She is oddly relieved to see twin tears break free from his lashes, and she reaches down chases them away with the pads of her thumbs.

"I love you, Kate." It's not part of his planned speech, she can tell, and it thrills her how he can't contain it. She smiles at him and nods; she knows he does. Kate wants him to ask her, to do it now. She wants to tell him yes. To show him how much she means it. Yes. Forever.

"Kate," he says, withdrawing a tiny box from his pocket. She doesn't even see the ring when he opens the box, she can't take her eyes off him. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes. Yes, Castle, I will. I want to marry you." Castle's up, pulling her into his arms before the words leave her mouth. His kiss is warm, reverent, his lips making the same promises as his words.

There are hoots and whistles and clapping, but Kate can barely hear them over the rush of blood in her ears.

They break apart, her breath still mysteriously absent from her lungs, and she watches as Castle slips the ring on her finger. It catches the light, the square-cut diamond surrounded with clusters of dark emeralds and tiny, obtuse-shaped diamonds. It's spectacular and still somehow modest. And old. Kate can't wait to hear Castle tell her the story behind it, because it's him; she knows there is a story.

She nods to him the approval she knows he's waiting for. She loves it. Her fingers are still trembling in his, her eyes tripping over the look of the ring on her finger, and she's thinking she will kiss him again - she really wants to kiss him - when a hand pulls on her shoulder.

Then it's a whirlwind.

It's Martha surrounding her with her perfume and arms, and her rapid-fire, exuberant exhalations, all in her distinct, motherly way of loving her that makes Kate's chest ache. It's her father and his wet eyes and his strangled voice. It's Alexis' embrace and tearful smile and the words, "I'm so happy," murmured in Kate's ear. It's her boys pretending their "allergies" are acting up. And it's Rick, his face so broken open with joy, crinkled in a spider web of pleasure.

It imbues her. All of it. It lifts her feet off the ground, tips of her toes barely touching, like she's filled with helium.

Kate feels his hand spread flat and warm along her waist, orienting her to him - her future husband.

"You did good, Castle." She turns to him, her nose nudging the apple of his cheek.

"Yeah?"

"Mmm, yeah." Their friends and family continue chattering around them, the excitement of the moment riding along on its own merit without needing the betrothed to pay attention.

"Did you really not know?" His index finger slips under the hem of her shirt, finding skin, and she gasps, a tiny thing only he can hear. Castle grins.

"Oh, Castle." She smiles sweetly at him, draws the pads of her fingers across his jaw. "Of course I knew."

He frowns severely at her, so disappointed, and she tries to school her features, to wipe her face clean of the wide-eyed surprise she still feels.

It must not work. Castle cocks his head and squints at her, scrutinizing her shrewdly. "You did not."

"Nope," she says, leaning in to kiss him. "I didn't have a clue."


	3. Chapter 3

She might throw up. Maybe. Kate swallows again, tries not to focus on the stomach acid rising bitterly in the back of her throat.

Her dress is too tight. Well, no, actually, it isn't. It just feels that way. It's all in her head. And it's not nerves, and thank God in heaven, it's not a panic attack. But, damn it, if she doesn't breathe through this she is going to throw up. And, in a makeshift bridal room only a few feet from their guests.

Kate can't determine which would be worse: Everyone she knows hearing her wretch, with the added bonus of possibly getting throw-up on her dress? Or puking on or near the books? Either way, she's sure she'll have her New York Public Library card revoked.

"Oh, darling. How lovely you look." Martha flits around the partition, her Chanel suit and strands upon strands of pearls the picture of civility. Kate runs her hands along her waist down her hips, smoothing the fabric of her dress, and swallows hard.

"I thought you might find a use for this." Martha waves around a small square of fabric, thin as parchment, edged with a band of impossibly delicate lace. The older woman shrugs, and with her free hand pulls a nearly identical piece of cloth from her pocket. "I've already made good use of this one," she chuckles as she says it, and Kate can see the watery eyes behind the wry smile, her makeup still impeccable.

"Between you, me, and these books, this is already far and away the best of my son's weddings."

Kate laughs, the sound echoing and bouncing back to her. She can hear the murmured conversations on the other side of the bookcase hush for a moment, and she covers her mouth and shakes it off. Leave it to Martha Rodgers to say just the right, most extraordinarily inappropriate thing to break the tension.

"Thank you, Martha." The breath of laughter is still in her voice. She reaches for the handkerchief, and when she does, Martha takes her hand gently in hers.

"Honestly, dear. He's damn lucky to have you. We all are." She lets go of her fingers and raises her hand to pat Kate's cheek.

"Martha. . . I. . . -"

"Now, don't mess up your makeup." Martha says.

Kate opens her mouth to try again, wanting to tell her, to actually get the words out, so thankful that she has a mom with her - oh, how she's going to need her - and Kate wants her to know.

"I know, Kate. Same here, kiddo. Don't smudge." Kate runs a knuckle under each eye and they come back clean.

Martha smiles at her, the moment passed, and Kate feels all of it settle down in her chest; it's good enough.

"Almost time. I'll send your father in?"

"Yes. Please." Martha winks at her as she shimmies around the partition once more.

Kate takes a deep breath, and then realizes that _she can take a deep breath_. Her hands are steady, her breathing deep, her dress not too tight, and no vomit anywhere; she's fine.

Will the surprises never cease?

* * *

It's mid-evening and the light is still strong enough to make the leaves on the trees shimmer an abstract painting along the stones of Bryant Park's Fifth Avenue Terrace. There are tea lights everywhere, and strands of light twinkling high above their heads, glowing even in the rapidly fading daylight.

They had compromised, only a handful of friends and family present for the nuptials, an isle created where the tables usually are, in _their_ spot, followed by an extravagant reception.

It's a strange feeling seeing everyone you know all in one place. The terrace is filled with a mix of old friends, family, New York's finest, and its most elite.

Kate keeps leaning into him, her mouth at his ear, and he thinks she's leaning in to whisper something, only she never speaks. He's never seen Beckett like this before, so touchy, her eyes constantly bright, her manner demure and still devastatingly engaging. Then again, he's never seen her on their wedding day before, so there's that.

They mingle as a nebulous unit, never quite talking to the same people, but still together.

Castle shakes the hand of Judge Markway again, one last promise of a golf outing sometime after he and Kate return from Thailand, a polite promise that neither of them really intend to keep, and she does it again. Her lips graze his earlobe, a small intake of breath - and then nothing. He turns to get a look at her, and she shakes her head at him, like it is nothing, like she can't help it. He kisses her lightly - his wife - and she blinks at him, slowly, like her lashes are too heavy, her eyes shining like crystals.

"What is it, Kate?" He nudges her.

"Just happy." She shrugs. "And a little overwhelmed."

He sees Bob step from the back exit of the Library and head their way, his mayoral muscle on either side. No time to talk to her like he wants. In a rush he asks, "Bad overwhelmed?"

"No. Oh no, Castle. A spectacular kind of overwhelmed." She smiles at him, her mouth wide, the dying light around her brightened because of it, and he believes her. Spectacular.

* * *

"What are you most looking forward to?" It's late, and the temperature has dipped down drastically, the tall heaters placed around the terrace helping the chill some, and yet somehow Castle, only in shirt-sleeves, finds himself warm.

"Hm," she ponders. "The elephants. That place I read to you about where we can actually ride them," she answers. Kate shifts a little closer to him on the dance floor where they're swaying, an easy smile on her lips, his tuxedo jacket falling slack down her arms and around her narrow body. "You?"

"The food. Easy." Kate chuckles and nods, and, no, he realizes, that's not even close to being true. "No. You. You riding elephants and exploring Chiang Mai and going to the temples and then walking the beaches in Koh Samui. Being there and exploring it all with you. That's what I'm most looking forward to."

Kate kisses the hinge of his jaw and he slips his hand a scant further down her dress under his jacket. "Good answer."

"That, and super-hot honeymoon sex." She laughs in his ear. Their bodies are pressed together from hip to chest, and yet he feels like he can't get close enough to her.

The party is still ebbing and flowing in a strong wave around them, so many people still here, the wait staff emptying trays of drinks and food by the minute. It does Castle's heart good to think they have thrown such a hell of a party.

She does it again.

Kate, her mouth at his ear, and an intake of breath. He feels her tongue dart out to moisten her lips, then - nothing.

"What is that, Kate?" He pulls back to get a look at her face.

"Huh?"

"That thing you keep doing. You've been doing it all night."

"I -" She shakes her head, and he can see the rote line of avoidance rising on her lips, ready to brush it off again. But she stops and looks him squarely in the eye. "I don't know how to do this. I keep thinking I know the best way, and - no." Her fingers curl cool under the collar of his shirt and she looks away, just past him, her eyes unfocused. "I can't find the moment."

It is ridiculous, but the pit of his stomach rolls with apprehension. "Okay, picking your moment, I get that. But I think telling me you're leaving me _on_ our wedding day might not be the right time."

Kate lets out a gasping breath that could be a laugh, it might be, only there doesn't appear to be any mirth with it.

"I think. _I think,_ maybe, perhaps, -"

"Oh, jeez, just say it, Kate."

"- that I'm about two months pregnant."

.

.

.

Sheistwomonthswhatnow?

* * *

Castle's mouth hangs open, gaping, and she thinks he'll say something.

He doesn't. He only stares at her. Kate tries to tamp down the unreasonable fear rising in her by the second, and for the first time in hours, she feels the urge rising up in her esophagus; she thinks she might be sick.

If she hikes up the excesses of her dress she might have enough time to run to the bathroom just inside the double doors. She thinks maybe she should. But the vision of her sprinting away from Castle, leaving him stranded on the dance floor with his mouth hanging open in front of all these people is too horrific. She'll puke over the railing into the bushes if she has to.

"It would really be good if you'd say something right now." She can feel the sharp, watchful look on her face, and can do nothing about it.

"Are you sure? _Two months?_" The words stumble in a rush out of his mouth.

Kate didn't know what she expected. That wasn't it. She breathes in through her nose and swallows.

"Pretty sure, yeah."

"How do you know?" They've stopped dancing.

"Um, _well_, because the last period I had was in late February. And the three pregnancy tests I took were pretty definitive." There is sarcasm dripping in her voice, and a thread, she's afraid, of hurt there too. He doesn't seem to notice.

"Holy crap! We're gonna have -"

"_Shhhh_, Castle," she hisses, her hand flying to cover his mouth. "Lower your voice. We're not telling all of New York City. Least not tonight."

He beams at her, shinning out around her fingers, and it eases the fist clenched around her heart. It does nothing for the disappointment, though. It's all messed up. This isn't how she planned. She ruined it. Her fingers curl and she pulls them away.

His face is still broken open, but his smile softens, his eyes glowing.

"What is that?" he asks.

She doesn't know. What is what?

Castle raises his right hand from her hip, and rubs his thumb over the deep crease between her eyes.

"Are you," his throat bobs, and the broad, unchecked happiness slides off his face. "Are you unhappy about this?" he whispers.

Unhappy? "No. God, no. Castle," she sighs. "I'm happy. You're - are you happy?"

His laugh is strangled. "No. Happy doesn't even come close. Ecstatic, maybe. Elated. A baby. _Our_ baby." There is so much wonderment in his voice, he's breathless with it, and she believes him. It warms her chest, relief flooding down to her fingertips.

He's happy. He's happy and it's good and she told him - only it's not... Oh, this isn't how it was supposed to go. Kate's head dips down, her neck weak and the desire to close her eyes and hide, strong.

"I messed it up," she mumbles into his shoulder. His cheek brushes against her ear, his lips in her hair.

"What did you mess up, Kate?" His voice is so gentle. She could stay right here for ages, her face half-hidden, his arms slipped tight around her, caught between her dress and his jacket she wears.

"Telling you. I did it wrong."

"How's that?"

"I had a plan." She sounds petulant, and if she wasn't more than a little pissed at herself she might find it annoying.

"Come on, we'll have a do-over. Tell me again. Follow the plan."

It's sweet, but, too late.

"Come on, Kate. Don't cheat me out of 'The Plan.'" He nudges her with his nose and she thinks, really for the first time, of everything that is between them. Literally. This whole life waiting, brand new, growing in the space between them.

Oh, it's overwhelming.

Her lips skim the collar of his shirt, find the shell of his ear, and she sighs and finds the words she rehearsed the last two days, the lifetime ago when she found out.

"So far, this day, this exact moment, is the best day of my life." She doesn't choke up, the words that she's whispered to herself a thousand times come easy, second nature. "But it won't be, not for long. Castle." She breathes his name, can't contain it, her joy spilling.

He knows, he already knows, but the excitement, the anticipation she felt about telling him, it's all still there. Castle's arms tighten, and he whispers, "Yes?"

Kate presses her smile into his skin. "We're gonna have a baby."

"We're going to have a baby," he echoes. "Best wedding gift ever."


	4. Chapter 4

Marriage is a fierce battle before which the two partners ask heaven for its blessing, because loving each other is the most audacious of enterprises; the battle is not slow to start, and victory, that is to say freedom, goes to the cleverest.

_- Balzac_

_The Physiology of Marriage, Meditation Number I_

* * *

The house is dark when she unlocks the door and pushes it open. It's not yet 8:00 and it feels like the middle of the night. Kate slips out of her heels in the entryway, a hand on the table to steady herself, and thinks about calling up the stairs.

Waste of breath. He won't be here. It's far too quiet.

She rolls her neck and leans back into her palm trying to pop something and loosen the knots, and for the millionth time today thinks that she really needs a new desk chair.

It's depressing alone in the dark night, and yet somehow that feels better, right; she doesn't want to celebrate this day if she has to do it alone.

Kate settles for turning the under-counter lights on in the kitchen and heads for the refrigerator. Ah, a note at least.

_Mom,_

_Studying with Drew - calc test on Friday._

_I'll call if it's going to be past my curfew._

_-G_

Kate smiles and pulls the note off the fridge, folds the tape down and tucks the note in her pocket. She doesn't remember when she started saving them.

Frigid air blasts from the open door, and suffuses some of the unseasonable May heat, making it possible for the first deep breath since she walked into the loft.

There's leftover spaghetti.

Kate stares at it.

She isn't hungry.

She misses Castle.

Ah, damn. The tears run hot and fast down her cheeks. It's just a cloud-burst, hard and fast and over nearly as soon as it began. Kate catches the moisture from her cheeks with the sleeve of her blazer and manages a laugh. So that pep-talk she had in the mirror this morning about how it was going to be a good day and how she wasn't going to get sad because of how damned much she misses her husband was ineffective.

Kate pulls out the already open pinot grigio from the door fills a glass with it. A bath. She'll take a bath, drink a little more wine - just enough - then put on her sweat pants and seriously consider that leftover spaghetti.

Her hip's propped against the counter, wine sliding easily past her lips, and her eyes flick to the closed doors of his study. She's been avoiding that room all week. It hasn't helped.

Kate sighs and pulls the phone out of her pocket. 8:04. No missed calls. She hates this. Hates feeling so needy. She hates missing him. She hates her own unreasonable mind for aching for him while simultaneously being pissed at him for leaving her in this, today, alone.

She gulps another mouthful, enough to kill any anger and start to work on the moroseness, and walks - through the hallway, not the study - into their bedroom.

"Took you long enough."

Castle's voice arrests her, makes her knees like water and her heart stutter.

He's there, the edge of the bed dipped where he sits, arrangements of orchids - green ones and purple ones, same as in her bouquet - on every surface, so many she's surprised she didn't smell them when she walked in the door.

Oh, thank God, he's home.

"Honey, have you been crying?" he asks, standing and reaching for her.

"Yes." Kate drops her wineglass on the chest of drawers and pushes him back down on the bed, steps into the V of his legs, her hands at his shoulders, enjoying the advantage. "I thought you forgot, you ass."

"When have I ever forgotten?" He grins at her, the edges of his mirth bleeding through the crevices in his skin all the way into the grey of his hairline. She runs her fingers through the hair at his temple like she always does, over and over, because she can't stop herself, losing some of her fearsomeness, some of the edge she needs to punish him just a little for making her feel like he forgot.

"There's a first time for everything," she says.

"Not this. Not even when I'm old and grey and my mind is feeble and riddled with dementia will I forget." His voice is low and she can feel his breath washing over the bare skin at her neck.

"_One day_ when you're old and grey? When's the last time you looked in the mirror, sweetheart?"

He smacks her ass and she smirks at him.

"How long have you been planning this?" Kate clasps her hands at the base of his neck.

"Well, I was talking to G on the phone last week -"

"Graham knew?"

"His idea actually. He -"

"I can't believe that little snot knew about this all week and didn't say anything."

"Let me finish," he says. Kate rolls her eyes, but nods for him to continue. "Anyway, I was trying to come up with something special and every idea had a key flaw: about three thousand miles worth of distance. Graham said it didn't matter what I did or how big the gesture, it wouldn't make you happy if we weren't together."

"Look at that, Castle. How smart our boy is."

"He said you've been moping." He grins.

"Eh, what does he know."

"You been missing me, Captain Beckett?"

"No," she says emphatically.

He strokes his hands down her sides, the way he settles her after a bad day, tender and reverent; she thinks he doesn't even know he does it.

"Yes. God, I missed you." She bends down so she can get her arms around his shoulders, her cheek at his neck. "Two months is too long."

"I know, Kate."

"I know you know." She kisses the salty skin behind his ear. "Harder for you. Least I'm at home, get to be with the boy."

"When you see him."

"Granted."

His fingers trail along the hair around her collar, twisting and letting go. "I missed you, too," he whispers.

She can't keep squatting, her joints too spent for that business, and she settles down onto her knees, leans back on her haunches.

Castle smiles at her, a little thin, and she sees how hard the last two months have been on him too.

"How long?"

"Three days."

Three days. She was afraid he was going to say one day. She was hoping he was going to say he didn't have to go back.

"I can, maybe -"

"No. Don't say it. You can't and I don't want the idea in my head. It's only another month. One more month and then it's just consulting from here and a few trips. It's worth it. It's what we decided."

He sighs and she worries that maybe it's more than just the separation.

"How's it going?"

"Good." He smiles. "Really good, Kate. I think you're going to love it. The team of writer's they've got are great. Super creative environment. I've got ideas for at least three new books. And the network's already ordered 13 episodes. Thirteen. That never happens before the pilot's even been shot."

She can feel the excitement thrumming in him. He had said things were going well, but this, it sounds - unreal.

"'Untitled Fall Crime Drama' is going to be a hit."

"You guys really need to come up with a title."

"Working on it."

He's watching her closely, his eyes dark, and she sees that he's waiting on her, for whatever reason, he's waiting. Kate lifts up on her knees to get at him, realizing that in all her surprise she didn't even kiss him hello. Her lips skim his cheek, down to his chin. She can feel the scratch of stubble there, and knows that he probably shaved right before he left the hotel in LA, but there's already enough growth to scrape her teeth along.

Kate pushes her lips against his and he stops waiting, his mouth opening, his tongue clever and devastating and tasting like their toothpaste. Ugh, she missed him. Kate tightens her fingers in the short hairs at the base of his skull, a moan rattling in her lungs (already) and bubbling through her chest looking to escape.

She grunts as he gently pulls her away.

Kate raises an eyebrow in question.

Castle smiles a crooked smile and kisses her again, quickly, with a smack.

"There's champagne. And I may have gotten you a present."

Sure enough, there are. On the dresser is a silver bucket, champagne sweating, beads of condensation falling steadily into the melting ice, and a small, neatly wrapped box.

"I sent your gift to LA." She didn't know.

"Well, it gives me something to look forward to when I get back."

"Mm, you're sweet."

"You're hot." He pants, and she sees it, all the honest, unbridled want in his eyes. She is so damned chuffed that after all these years she's still got it.

Kate leans her mouth into his again.

"Champagne, babe."

"You don't have to woo me, Castle. I'm a sure thing." She leers at him while nipping at his jaw, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"Not wooing, just slow." He pulls her hands away. "We've got all night. And it's been two months and I want slow. Sexy. Something to keep me company when I'm on the other side of the country."

"All night, hmm?" All night - ah, Graham studying with Drew? Maybe. But his father sent him away. "Ugh, what did you tell the boy?"

"I eluded. He put it together. Not my fault."

She winces at the thought. "Poor kid."

"He'll survive. Worse things in life than having parents who love each other."

"True."

"Besides, it's been two months, you really want to have to try to be quiet?"

"Oh, good point. I want to be loud. I really do." She grins wide at him. "Come on." Kate puts a hand on Castle's knee and pushes up. Both of her feet tingle as blood rushes back to them, and she flexes them on the rug as she walks to the dresser and the wet bottle of Dom Perignon. The bottle opens with a soft pop as her husband winds an arm around her waist. It makes pouring more difficult, and it so worth it.

Kate notices the slight shake to her hand as she twists the bottle, keeping it from dripping down the side. She places it back in the bucket and takes a deep breath. These last two months have been harrowing. She didn't know when they agreed he should go to LA to work on the show that it would be like this. She had no idea how she could miss him.

"You know how much I love you, Castle?"

"I do." He kisses her neck where it meets with her shoulder, and he exhales, his breath tickling.

"Good. I thought you might. Do you have any idea how much I need you?"

Castle pauses and she leans her back against his chest, needing his support in yet another way. "I'm starting to, Kate. If it's anything like how I need you."

Kate nods, swallowing down some of the emotion sitting on her tongue, the urge to let it overflow such a near thing. She clears her throat. "Good."

Castle takes the glass she offers him and they clink together. His gaze is dark and beautifully sure on hers.

"Happy anniversary, Kate."

She didn't think on that day that it could be more than it was then. And here, seventeen years later, seventeen years of fighting and loving and parenting and now distance, she sees how wrong she was. How much more it is now than it was all those years ago, the way she loves him.

She pushes on her toes, not able to keep it in any longer. Her mouth to his, she says, "Happy anniversary, Castle."


End file.
